The zealot, the warrior, the traitor
by pothayto
Summary: Lead by a prophecy, Princess Veranke raises a legion of radical believers to gather the Skrull Empire and invade Earth as it was promised by the Skrull God. However, born from a night of romance between the young Messiah and strong warrior Kl'rt, Ky'la proves herself dangerous when standing up against the wishes of her homeworld.
1. Chapter 1

• **¶** **Prophecy Uncharted**

Our story begins at the peak of the end. An end. One of a few.  
One may have heard of the Book of Worlds. Prophecies condemned as tall tales written in each and every page, leading their believers to kneel before a future unknown. Promises, bah, no one can rely on promises.  
It was a languorous afternoon at the deserted land of Satriani. A loud murmur gave away the cavernous localization of a gathering between the royal council. Amid the crowd, Emperor Dorrek VII and Princess Veranke exchange sharp glares and bitter words to a divergence of opinions.  
— You are a religious zealot and a madwoman! Take this traitor away from me!  
The loud chatter breaks into desperate cries and vehement protests. The majority stands strong, pointing fingers and repeating their leader's words, nonchalantly. Away with the traitor! Away! Away, they weep.  
— Nooo!  
She yanks her arms from subtle grips while her begging eyes try to pierce through the cold ones of the extreme council. Oh, but they're too wise, too old to trust the blind beliefs of a young girl. Too powerful to care about the "annihilation" of their most powerful conquered worlds.  
A bedlam gradually spreads in the royal altar. Believers and impious skrulls stand against each other as the beginning of a civil war.  
— She speaks the truth! – claimed the loyal members of the religious conclave named Dard'van. – She speaks the truth!  
Unphazed, the skeptical ones take her by the wrists, dragging her out of the sacred chantry, followed by a horde of revolutionary battle cries.  
She looks back to see the stern mien of the Emperor, hatred in her eyes, for the end would come and the salvation laid by her hands. Indeed: the male was a fool.  
— You will see! A wave! It is written!  
It was the last time she insisted on her vows. They wrap her into a black veil and escort her to the exit of the cave.  
— A wave will come!  
The doors were closed as she laid in dust and sand. A hand to her stomach, for she carried more than "empty hopes". What an end for the messiah to the ancient prophecy and her followers; condemned for heretic acts. She insisted that a wave of annihilation was coming to swallow their homes, but the skepticism remained strong. As a last act, Emperor Dorrek VII exiled Veranke in the desert of Satriani.  
Little did he know... he was indeed a fool.

" _A wave of destruction, nothingness. And out of nothingness will you outstretch your hand and take in that which needs you."_

The remaining members of the council wander around an even more desert environment until reaching a small hideout.  
— The Skrull homeworld has been destroyed and the armada is close to ruins.  
— Then the scripture was right.  
Exchanging glares between their own, it is of obvious demand they kneel before her, lowering their heads in shame. For she was right, and the Skrulls were no more.  
— Yes, your excellence.  
She lifts her chin when stepping out of the shadows. Her body is smaller, her skin is dry; a small package lays wrapped by that same black veil, carried with delicacy on weakened arms. It whimpers at her mother's gentlest move. They stare, although trying not to. Her followers approach, hoods covering their bald heads.  
— And now you come back to me.  
Tensing their muscles, the Skrull warriors agree in unison.  
— Yes, my queen.  
Kl'rt, a standing warrior on the background, lifts his head to eye the queen and the baby in her arms.  
She merely nods.  
— Let us open the doors to the blue planet.

 _To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

• **¶** **Smells Like Skrull Spirit**

A few days had passed before the change of scenarios. The current position granted Veranke a perfect view to a large arena, where a loud ovation reached for the high pedestal where she stood. Her hands landed on the alabaster rampart, following along the embedded details on its cold surface. To say she didn't enjoy the warm reception would be a blatant lie. She wandered her purple eyes around the crowded landscape below, spotting the same few who once doubted her words. Now, they'd listen, and they'd make it their true purpose.  
— Millions of our brothers died so that the most skeptical among you could now know what we have always known!  
Her thunderous voice reverberated through the many ears and hallways. Silence settled almost immediately. They wanted to know what their Empress had to say. Studying the surroundings once again, she noticed Dorrek VII didn't concede his presence. Pity.  
— ... As the prophets wrote down to our ancestors! We now know the words as written are merged by truth! That our people will survive! That our people will have a sacred home!  
A larger glimpse of the cheering crowd was provided, widening the scenario of celebration. She couldn't help but smile without losing her mighty composure.  
— It is called Earth! And it is ours! As it is written! As it is WRITTEN!

Let it be known they believed her. Some even trusted her.  
As much as some only agreed to fight in order not to die a traitor.

[...]

 **Eighteen years later...**

Faint noises of working machines lulled his comeback to the real world. He, a intelligent man, didn't take too long to realize he wasn't home anymore. The white walls and white sheets screamed hospital. The deodorizer smell screamed hospital. Blinking fast to adjust his pupils to the great amount of light, Mr. Fantastic soon spotted his wife, Sue, and his two other friends, Johnny and Ben. The younger Storm was the first to step forth and greet the man with a subtle question.  
— Tell us everything you know about Galactus.  
Reed furrowed his eyebrows. Oblivious to the purpose of that query, he shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed.  
— Galactus...?  
The door swung open for a nurse to walk in, blaster in hands, shooting the man's face. His arms twitched after the blow, immediately ending the simulation.  
— This sickens me.  
The other members of the Fantastic Four stared in disbelief, standing back in embarrassment. Sue, already readapting into her green shape, gestured for her colleagues to do the same.  
— My pardons... did we do something wrong?  
Dorrek VII abandoned the nurse appearance within a blink. Disgusted and fueled by hatred, he tossed the weapon aside and pointed a finger to the destroyed life model decoy.  
— That mud-walker turned one of my family into a cow.  
— What is a cow? –, questioned the fake Ben Grimm.  
— My point.  
Responsible for the simulation, a Skrull scientist quickly walked in, changing from the human form to his original frame. He approached the ancient one and begged for him to leave.  
— Your highness, you were here only to observe. The clone unveiling was only the first step...  
— You will make another.  
An unpleased ex-Emperor left the room as suggested. A wider glimpse of the broad salon would show many more rooms like that specific one, where a thousand other Skrulls trained their lines, parading as different heroes to supply the necessary material for an upcoming event.

[...]

Her movements were slow, contrasting against the velocity he applied to his every blow. A punch to the guts forced her to back off, arms crossed before the most recent target. Shame. She lowered her guard. The second punch came faster, rougher – she jerked her head to the side and suddenly found herself collapsing on the ground. The loud thud didn't call the audience's attention anymore. They were too busy training harder, unlike the young daughter of the Queen.  
Coughing up blood, Ky'la chuckled until her stomach couldn't afford it without contracting in pain. Yek'zar, her young instructor, watched her fail over and over without showing any hint of mercy. He frowned when she stood back up, fists clenched while she reassumed a fighting stance.  
— I should have seen this coming.  
— Indeed you should.  
Both younglings adjusted their posture at the very same time. The fierce voice of the greatest warrior brought chills to her spine. She wondered if Ye'kzar felt the same thing when around his master, as known as the one who ordered him to train the princess.  
Kl'rt walked past the boy and jolted straight ahead towards his offspring. Next thing she knew he was holding onto her wounded wrist, provoking grimaces and whimpers. Angered, he hissed, and another wave of fear spread shivers all over her spine.  
— You are holding back, Ky'la!  
Yanking her wrist from his reach, she flashed her teeth in a muffled growl. She was too proud not to avoid showing submission.  
— How could you tell? Are you paying attention now?  
Unimpressed, he snatched her wrist again and tightened the strong grip he applied beforehand. The girl groaned, this time genuinely.  
— Do not test me.  
An unexpected silence to an once noisy arena made both father and child lower their tones. Skrulls bowed to the magnificent presence of their Queen, until she raised her left hand to certify there was no need to stop their current tasks. Soon, sounds of swords, growls and thuds filled the atmosphere as a whole once again.  
She eyed her ex-lover, her daughter and even the young soldier that stood aback for witnessing a family reunion.  
— Kl'rt of Tarnax.  
A long minute of silence followed her words. It took him awhile to finally release his daughter and turn around to face the Queen, eyes soft but posture still stern.  
— They need you on sector eight. I will take this from here.  
Reluctant, he eyed Ky'la one last time before bowing down to praise royalty.  
— Yes, Your Grace.  
Ky'la wanted to hate him. She wanted to wish him dead by the time they set foot on Earth. Her once loving father became a spike on the shoe after the loss of Tarnax VI and, consequently, her half-brother Sarnogg. He became a cold man at home, as much as he displayed on the battlefield. Jazinda, her younger half-sister, endured the worst part by living under his will. Ky'la herself still had her other side to comply, but it was no heaven neither.  
— Greetings, mother.  
Veranke frowned and sighed in disapproval. Keeping a straight face although restless at the Queen's presence, the violet haired female stood uneasy while her mother's tender hand stroked the top of her head.  
— Years ago, our people would refuse to believe in a sacred fate. Took them an age of darkness and sorrow to understand the importance of this cause.  
Although Ky'la did her best to look away, Veranke was quick to hold her chin and lift her gaze back to hers. That was a part of their routine: to preach how the Skrull God loved them all and how he would gladly conceive a new and better land for their race to live on. Peace by war. As a lover of science, she scoffed. Noticing her spawn's stubbornness every time they had that same conversation, Veranke pulled a new card from under her sleeve.  
— I will not give you hardship, beloved. Instead, I will offer you a gift.  
Aware of her mother's intentions, specially once Veranke's eyes drifted away to land on a certain warrior fighting a few meters away from them, Ky'la parted her lips to speak. Any and all efforts would be in vain.  
— You will fight, Ky'la. There is no science, no peace, no useless quietude.  
She then gently touched the young lady's wounded wrist before wrapping a bondage around its harmed spot.  
— There is just the cause.  
She turned around to leave her speechless daughter alone with the illusion of a way out. K'vvvr, the warrior in question, glanced at Ky'la after finishing off his current opponent and quickly nodded to the Queen. He knew. The girl returned the glance with a blank, emotionless stare, with Yek'zar mimicking the same reaction to the roll of events.  
Your Grace's work wasn't done.  
— You must trust it.  
It had merely begun.


End file.
